Diary of An Unrepentant Sex Addict

Friday, April 29, 2005

Smoke Gets In My Eyes

So, I've decried smoking in earlier posts, and gotten some interesting comments. So it seems I should clarify, and at the same time come clean: I can't stand kissing someone who smokes, while on the other hand I have a serious smoking fetish.

See, smoking just screams "oral fixation." And I love oral fixation. Plus, it's a wonderful visual treat, to see someone sexy slowly wrapping their lips around the tip of a phallic symbol. Her lips close around it, and there is the slight hollowing of the cheeks as she draws in. Then the exhale, slow and sultry if I'm lucky. Even the way the cloud of smoke can sometimes momentarily blur the face of the smoker. Think Natasha Henstridge in The Whole Nine Yards, Linda Fiorentino in The Last Seduction, or Asia Argento in B Monkey. I find myself tranfixed by their mouths. I've even rented movies just on the recommendation of the Female Celebrity Smoking List. (A website that proves I'm hardly alone in my fetish.)

Unfortunately, this is a classic case of fantasy not even remotely matching reality. For me, at least. I've only dated (as in more than two or three dates) a smoker twice. I joke that the second time was because I'd forgotten the negatives of the first time. (In reality, the second one was another case-study in addiction that I'll write about sometime in the future.) The "kissing a smoker is like licking an ashtray" quip isn't that far off the mark. For me, there's a truly noticable taste present when kissing a smoker that isn't there otherwise. And, again for me at least, it isn't a pleasant one. I once had a very erotic dream in which I was making out with Julie Delpy (an unapologetic smoker) in which it was disrupted when my subconscious suddenly realized I wasn't "tasting" what I should be. Damn it, it was a really good dream up to that point, too.

But lest anyone think that I am absolutely unyielding on the topic, I must confess to allowing myself an out. An out I'll never have to make good on, but you never know. I keep a mental list of celebrities that I find so unbelieveably hot and desirable that I would give up my anti-smoking stance for them. If I ever had the chance. The list changes as my own tastes ebb and flow, but for the record here are the 5 current celebrities I would shag silly if given the chance:
Of course, since these are all unreachable fantasies, I'll never have to make good on it...

Dausa

Thursday, April 28, 2005

I Could Do With Some More of That, Please

I have this, errr, condition that occassionally inflicts me. I wake up in the morning, and shortly thereafter get aroused. Not just normally aroused, mind you, but iron-wrapped-in-velvet hard. As Wilford Brimley said in Cocoon, "Blue steel. Cat couldn't scratch it."

The catch is, when I get like this in the morning, there is no real relief to be had. The number of times I've actually been able to get off in this particular state, I can count on one hand. And most mornings I just hop in the shower and let it go away on its own accord. I could play with it a little, and often do, but it's usually a given that nothing comes of it. A perfectly good boner, wasted.

But this morning, I wasn't alone. My new friend had stayed the night. And while we both had other things we needed to be doing, how can we let something like that go to waste? I warned her that I almost certainly wouldn't orgasm, and that with the added factor of the condom, I probably wouldn't go even semi-soft as long as we kept at it. Oddly-enough, this failed to deter her. So we made the most of it. In the end, it came down to:

Me: Do you wanna stop now?
Her: We should get going, I guess.
Me: Yeah.
Her: OK, one more orgasm, then we'll stop.
Me: Sure thing!

I could use more mornings like that. And maybe a few evenings, too. Afternoons would be nice, but there's not a lot of privacy around my office.

Dausa

Monday, April 25, 2005

Bending Over, Just Not Backwards

On one of my trips to London, I saw a show on some BBC channel called Digital Sex that featured Alexis Arquette. He referred to "The Order of the Snake Eating Its Tail" (though that symbolism already has various meanings in other cultures).

That is, he was talking about auto-fellatio.


This is something with which I have direct experience. And I'm actually not (too) ashamed to admit it. It all started when I was about 15, and it came about (so to speak) through an unlikely combination of flexibility, determination, and physical fortune...

I had discovered masturbation already, but I was already wanting more than it had to offer. I was deathly shy around girls in school. I knew of at least one or two friends who were already having sex, and I hated being limited to fantasies. But I was. So I was trying to come up with interesting alternatives to plain old stroking off. I don't know when I started thinking about it, but at some point, as I was seated and stroking, it seemed that the distance between my mouth and my penis wasn't that far. As it would happen, I hadn't really had any bisexual leanings at this point. I guess the thought of sucking my own dick didn't register as "gay" in my brain. But I couldn't quite reach!

I experimented with different chairs, trying to find one that was the right height for sitting in such that my pelvis could be tilted slightly upward. Turns out that the toilet was just right (with the lid down, of course). But that didn't quite bridge the gap by itself. At this point, I was maybe 2-3 inches away from reaching. I couldn't even hit the tip with my tongue. I was not going to be denied!

For weeks, I diligently tried each night. I stretched and relaxed. I wasn't in great shape, but I was active-enough to be in decent shape. I was also fairly limber, maybe because of the unusual exercises that being in marching band called for. Who knows? What I do know is that after about a month, my perserverance paid off. I was able to swab the head with my tongue. It wasn't exactly Deep Throat, but it was a start. And it was a damn sight better than my hand. I had an amazing orgasm that first time. But I wasn't ready to declare victory just yet. I was sure I could do more.

After weeks more of exercise and stretching, I finally did it: I got my mouth around the head. I felt like I had discovered a cure for cancer. At last! No longer would I have to overcome shyness, just to get oral copulation! I could only manage the head, but compared to my hand, I was in heaven! So much so, I didn't even give much thought to what was going to happen in, oh, say, about 30 seconds.

When I try to convince a girlfriend to swallow, let's be clear: I know what I'm asking. I know what my own jizz tastes like. I wouldn't exactly try to make a meal of it, but it's not like I'm asking her to drink castor oil.

I was pretty surprised that first time. I had no idea it would be salty. I actually had no real ideas at all-- sex-ed wasn't a very comprehensive class in the Bible Belt. But that all said, I swallowed like a champ. Or, at least, what I expected a champ would do in the same situation. And while it wasn't sweet as candy, it didn't make me gag, either.

Over time, I managed to even get an inch or so past the head. But that was the best I could do. Still, I can't really complain. Nowadays, I'm not as young and not as flexible. I have a spare tire around my waist that gets in the way. It wasn't until I was in my late-20's that I had a partner who told me flat-out that I was well-above-average in both length and girth. When I finally confessed my early achievements to her, she had no trouble believing it because, as she put it, "God covered half the distance for you, already." Unfortunately for her, I was already too out of shape to demonstrate for her. She was dying to see that.

Maybe, when I get to my target weight, I'll look her up.

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Thursday, April 21, 2005

Ode to the Ones That Got Away

I'm from Oklahoma, originally, just in case I haven't mentioned that before. Oklahoma City, to be specific, so this week was a little sobering for me. Tuesday was the 10th anniversary of the Oklahoma City bombing. Luckily, no one I knew (family or friend) was hurt. But it got me thinking about my earlier years, and some of the people that I so desperately wanted to shag, but with whom it was not meant to be.

So sit back and relax, my readers, as I reflect fondly on some of the ones I just didn't quite connect with...

I'll start in high school. I had crushes before then, but it was then that I really started looking at girls with fornication on my mind. My freshman year, there was the first of a few anonymous entries, because I don't remember her name (I still have my yearbooks, but the pictures are not good enough to pick her out using my fading memory). She was the first non-white person I can recall having a crush on. A light-skinned black girl, I never had the nerve to try to get closer because of a somewhat racist household.

My sophmore year, and another name I can't remember. She was actually flirting with me on the first day of school. I had inadvertently been the butt of a suggestive joke in my English class. But I was too shy and introverted to realize at the time that I was being flirted with. It may have been that there was no substance to it, that had I pressed the point she would have brushed me off. Then again, I might have lost my virginity a good 33 months sooner. She was textbook white trash, from her peroxide-blonde-with-dark-roots hair, to the form-fitting Harley Davidson tank top hugging some very impressive C-cups. At this point, I hadn't even kissed a girl. I think she was a smoker. I wonder if I'd be as put off by kissing smokers, if the first person I kissed had been one? I might have thought it was the normal experience.

It wasn't until my senior year, though, that things were actually heated-enough with girlfriends to truly qualify as missed opportunities. There was Margo, the first girl to go down on me, the first person to bring me to orgasm. But I don't count her; she turned into a head case in college. I consider that one a bullet dodged, not an opportunity missed. A little later that year was Joan, a college freshman. It really rocked to be going to a college campus and making out in a dorm room with a college chick. But that was as far as it went.

College should have brought more opportunity than it did, but I can't complain. (I actually had my first relationship with a black woman, whom I wish I had been nicer to at the time.) The only real "miss" was Mary, the stunning 6'1" amazon I dated several times. That was literally a dream come true: five years earlier, she'd been a counselor at a week-long band camp. I'd seriously lusted after her at the time, without a hope for success. Well, until five years later. That short romance yielded but a single fucking incredible blowjob. To this day, she is one of the ones I think of the most often. Even if her pet beagle pissed all over me that evening when I picked her up.

There was a missed threesome opportunity right after my senior year, when I was taking some graduate classes. Someone I had already slept with was at my place, along with a friend. We started out doing back-rubs, which turned into just slow caresses. But the one I was already sleeping with wasn't in a sharing mood, even if her friend clearly was. So the one stayed and the other went home. No complaints-- I still scored, after all.

Denver was pretty uneventful. I was in a long-term open relationship most of the time, so I was getting plenty and I was allowed to have things on the side. And threesomes (and moresomes). Most of what I wanted, I got. There were crushes, and admiration from afar, but nothing I'd call a missed chance.

Oh, but California. Besides discovering commercial sex, I've had plenty of missed chances. Some were lack of chemistry, some were bad timing for one or the other of us. But most were just me being too busy to call people back. There was Holly, who punctuated her days as a tech writer with nights as a dominatrix. We kept saying we'd get together, but then she moved elsewhere. There's M, the petite little brunette friend of a friend. She isn't necessarily out of reach, so I'll leave her as an initial. She's bi, but more into women. One can hope. I met Terri at a pool party, and lost her number when my PDA died suddenly. Maybe I'll see her again, but I'm not as optimistic.

Of course, California is the land of opportunity, and some of my missed connections are not yet lost causes. So I'll refrain from naming anymore names, for fear of jinxing myself.

Dausa

Monday, April 04, 2005

As Far As Trends Go...

...this one ain't half-bad. From a Reuters article on teen sex practices, we learn (as we've been reading all over the place for a year or more) that teens are turning to oral sex in droves, over a belief that it is safer (from an STD standpoint) than "normal" sex. The overall point of the article is that the teens are in fact putting themselves at risk by not using protection, and that some STDs that can be tranmitted via oral sex are increasing in incidence. But it was this paragraph that caught my eye:

In addition, one-third of the multi-ethnic 9th graders surveyed said they intended to have oral sex within the next six months and nearly one-fourth planned to have intercourse during the period. It was more common for boys to have performed oral sex on girls than vice versa, the report said.

Wow. Talk about a trend to get behind! It's long-past time that males learned early in their sexual education, the importance and value of putting the female's pleasure first. When I was in high school, no one had even heard of that, unless they'd gotten ahold of some hardcore porn. Let's hear it for progress!

Dausa

Sunday, April 03, 2005

Things Are Looking Up

In what comes as a great surprise to me, if no one else, I've met and been out a few times with someone new. She's polyamorous, and has a primary partner. This is fine by me, as my life is too chaotic right now for a full-time relationship.

What can I say? Coupling with someone I actually have a connection with beats seeing a provider, hands-down. It's like the difference between the 30%-pure heroin of the '70s, and the 90%-pure blend on the streets these days.

Yum.

D